


A Pleasure

by MjolnirMjolfar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: African American Vernacular English, Consent is Sexy, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Mental Health Issues, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sexually Frustrated, aave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MjolnirMjolfar/pseuds/MjolnirMjolfar
Summary: A pleasure chant goes awry when a young woman mixes contemporary African American Vernacular English with ancient words.





	1. Incantation

It has been months.  
I’ve been climbing up a mountain, and I haven’t seen the top.  
I haven’t been able to climax, and it’s taking its toll on me.

First, I thought it was stress. So I started that woo-woo self-care shit I saw on tumblr.  
Yoga. Scented candles. Face sheet masks. Bubble baths. Deep conditioner. Even going vegan… for 3 days.  
I look great, but I’m nowhere closer to the BIG WOW.

I’ve tried toys of all kinds-- dildos, vibrating bullets, warming lube, and even those crystal eggs. 

I read fanfiction of my favorite ships until I needed lube … for my eyes. My brain was entertained, but my body still craved release. 

I’ve never had a problem getting myself off before, and it’s something that’s been hard to talk about with my friends. Everyone around me is doing their own thing, spiritually. My girl Nadie was telling me that she was a bruja and that I should call on my ancestors to help me. My mom is big on Jesus and her response to everything is to “pray on it”. My brother sees ghosts, but tries to not interact with them because he doesn’t want people to think he’s crazy. 

I’m not big on religion or spiritual stuff, but I figure it couldn’t hurt to call in a favor with whoever would listen. So, I draw a pentagram on the floor with a circle around it, light some tea lights, burn some sage, sit a bowl of fresh water on an offering rug, sit cross legged, close my eyes, and begin chanting:

“Dare gaudens…. Dare gaudens…. Dare gaudens….Ancestors… hear my plea…. Spirits… hear my plea… gods hear my plea… Dare gaudens…. Dare gaudens…. Dare gaudens”

The chanting starts to get old, so I start speaking out loud, hoping everyone understands that I don’t really speak latin, greek, or yoruba. 

“Hey, spiritual beings and deities. I need your help. I’m sure it’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but low key, I need you. I’ve been struggling to come for months. I don’t want a man to help me, I need the help of a god or goddess-- because I don’t discriminate, I’m an equal opportunity lover and --- WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”

A man in a ridiculous green outfit with a gold headband is sitting at my computer desk, fingertips touching the opposite hand, and a smirk on his face. 

“You called me by name, did you not?” He locks eyes with me from across the room.

“Look, I can’t have company right now. I was in the middle of something, and my mom will flip if some random white dude is in my room.”

The man gets up-- damn he’s tall--and approaches slowly, and spits: “You mewling quim!-- you asked for me --BY NAME. Do you want to climax or not?”

“I think you just insulted me, but yeah, I need help.” I notice that his eyes are an unnatural emerald color, kinda hot.

He puts his hands on either side of me, trapping me with his body, then holds me with his gaze. “What are you going to give me in exchange for my help?”. 

“I don’t know. I don’t have much. What do you want?” I look away, but his grabs my chin and makes me resume eye contact.

“Let me think on what I might desire from you. Before that, tell me why you subdue your power.”

“I don’t have any powers. I’m actually a little sick, but I’ve been doing better lately.”

“What sickness do you have?”

“Anxiety. And depression.” I mutter.

“I’m not familiar with these illnesses.” He looks at me, skeptically.

You hear a voice in the hallway. “Indigo, who are you talking to this late at night?”

“Shit! That’s my mom-- you gotta go!” I try pushing him toward the window, but he doesn’t budge.

“What about your condition?” He asks.

“Uh, I’ll summon you later. Just go!” I give another push and tumble forward. He disappears, just as my Mom opens the door.

“Child- who were you talking to? And what is all this- this devilment!?” She gestures at the pentagram on the floor “You better not be marking up the floors, and bringing devils in this Christian home. Clean this shit up before you burn the house down.”  
She turns angrily and continues muttering out in the hallway as she walks to her room: “Got two crazy ass kids. One sees ghosts and the other is a devil worshipper. Lord, help me. Is this a test?”

I blow out the candles. Then, I dip a rag in the bowl of water and remove the chalk from the hardwood floor. I toss the sage bundle in the bowl of water. 

After I brush my teeth and wash my face, I crawl into my bed, feeling spent. Thinking about the tall pale man, I decide to touch myself a bit. I sigh and wonder out loud: “He’s definitely not an ancestor… at least not a recent one. And he felt pretty real, so not a spirit. I don’t think he’s a devil, but low-key, I don’t care what he is, if he can help me.

“You called?” Says a voice from the shadows.


	2. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indigo has repressed her power

I gasp, “Oh my god!”.

Was that a smirk?  
“Wait, are you a god? No shade, but you don’t look like one of MY ancestors.”

He runs his fingers over my books, and replies with a question, “How many gods do you know?”

“Like, personally? None, but I know of a lot. Why do you look like that?” I gesture to his gold headband and green leather getup. 

“This is Asgardian battle wear.” His body blurs, kinda like a Sim, and he solidifies in a tight black suit, with black shirt and a green tie. Apparently, we are in the same Hogwarts house.

I lick my lips and say, “I see you’re going to bed, mind if I slytherin?” and laugh at my own joke. He looks annoyed. “I don’t have time for your foolish Midgardian antics.”

Damn. Why so serious, pale god?  
“My bad. I didn’t realize you were busy. Um, can you wave your wand or say a spell to fix me?”

He stopped touching the items on my bookshelf and looked directly at me. “I’m not a wizard.”

I tried again, “Well maybe you can appear as golden rain and fix my issue, but please don’t impregnate me because that’s not cool.”

His mouth twitches like I almost got a laugh from him. “I wouldn’t take anything from you that you aren’t freely offering.”

“Weird way of saying it, but thanks. Are you the god of consent?” I guess.  
“Of mischief” He responds cooly.

“Shit.” I immediately cover my mouth. Too late. He glares at me.  
“I don’t have to help you, but you keep calling for me.” His mouth is a hard line.

I put my palms together and bow them to punctuate each word:  
“That’s just the thing. I didn’t call for you…” His face darkens, so I add, “Specifically.”  
I take a deep breath and try to explain myself. “I was calling out to any spiritual being that could help me. Low key I was --”  
“That’s it. You called me again” His pretty emerald eyes were burning into mine.  
“Low key?”  
“Loki”  
“Aw, hell!” I got up and paced the room for a couple seconds, recalling my words from earlier. I stopped pacing and hung my head. “I’m sorry, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Well, if you don’t want my help, I’ll go.” He disappears.

I sigh. Then, start calling his name: “Loki...Loki, c’mon now. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know your name, but I still need help.”  
Nothing.  
“Loki, please”

He appears, sitting on the bed. “If you want to get into my good graces, Midgardian, all you have to do is beg.”

Of course. I get the god with an inflated ego. Still, better than silence. The other gods ain’t even checking for me.  
“Migardian?”  
“You call it Earth, but it’s Midgard”  
“So, you’re an alien god with Sim-powers”  
“You’ve barely seen any of my power, Midgardian”  
“You can call me, Indigo. That’s my name.” 

“I’ll call you what I like.”  
I opened my mouth to protest, but I didn’t want him to go disappearing again.  
“Alright, Loki” I overemphasize the pronunciation.

“You can call me by my name to get my attention. Once I’m with you, you’ll refer to me as Master.”  
My mouth hung open for a second.  
“Master?” I squeak incredulously.  
“Yes” he answers in a silky voice.  
“Um, there are some unpleasant racial dynamics with that, can I call you something else?”  
He cocks his head to the side, “Racial dynamics?”  
“Yeah, I’ll let you borrow Roots and you’ll see what I mean.” I lay on the sweetness, “Please give me a different way to address you.”  
He softens slightly as I say please, then responds, “Prince.”  
I smile shyly, “Yes, my Prince”  
“What’s important is that you serve me and swear your loyalty to me. When I’m satisfied that you are mine, I’ll satisfy you.”  
He leans back and lays on the bed. I awkwardly look around the room, speechless.

“Come lay next to me.”

Whoa. That’s a little fast. But he’s a god, so he probably has powers if I resist. Or he might leave and I’ll be back to where I started.  
“I don’t like repeating myself.” he sighs.  
I climb in, and lay stiffly next to him, unsure of what I should do. He blurs, then sharpens, wearing black sweatpants and a soft green t-shirt. He raises his arms to rest his head in his hands. A bit of his torso is exposed and I see he has a six-pack, and that sexy vee line that points to his…  
“Excuse me, Prince-god-sir. Can you change your sweatpants to grey?”  
I nervously look at his face. His pants are already grey when I look back down.  
He has a lovely dickprint. I silently give thanks for grey sweatpants.  
“If you’re done appreciating my body, we can work on your.. Issue.” He flashes his white teeth at me, a devil’s grin. I look away shamefully.  
“Yes… my Prince.” I nearly forgot. 

“You call your powers a sickness and work to subdue them, why?” He turns to face you, and props his head up with one arm.

“Mental Illness isn’t a power. It’s ruining my life.”  
“Because you can’t control your powers... yet. I will help you learn control.” The devil grin returned to his face. “Tell me what your ‘illness’ looked like before you tried to mute it.”

“I used to dissociate really badly. It felt like I wasn’t in my body, like I could see myself from above, but I couldn’t interact with anyone. And I used to get intrusive images. I’d see horrifying things, things that weren’t real. I’d see car crashes and kidnappings and murders and other awful stuff. I’d get so worked up about it that I couldn’t focus.” I paused, swallowed. Then continued, “That’s why I’m back home. I had to take medical leave from my university, and come back to my mom’s house.” Tears were streaming down my face. I don’t know when they started falling. 

Loki hugs me, surprising me, and I let the waterworks go. I can’t stop. My nose starts running, and throat feels like something is stuck inside. I’m making those ugly *hic*hic*hic noises. My whole body starts convulsing. It’s embarrassing how long it takes me to pull myself together and stop convulsing. Loki decides that I should rest, and gives me a list of words to look up when I’m not snotting and leaking everywhere. 

I give him a DVD set of the Roots mini series, and my copy of Africans in the Americas to borrow.  
I’m not sure if he has a DVD player, but I’m too exhausted to explain the history of race relations in the USA to a foreigner, especially a foreigner to the planet. 

I say goodnight, and swear I felt him kiss my forehead after he disappeared. Maybe I’m tripping.  
I look at the list he left me:  
Astral Projection  
Asgard  
Clairvoyance  
Loki


	3. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indigo knows her God

Gospel music is blaring so loudly that the trinkets on my nightstand are yattering. I roll out of bed and try to look busy.  
The door to my bedroom flies open-- too late.

“I know you ain’t trying to sleep in on the LORD’S DAY! Chile, git up and git to work.”

My mom drops a bucket, cleaner, and rags in the doorway and swishes down the hallway.

My mom is stacked-- short and shapely, with generous portions of everything. I look more like a fat-bottom hourglass. My mom claims she had the same body as me, before she had my brother and I.

I head down the hallway to clean the bathroom. Giving my brother a knowing look as I pass him in the hall. He is polishing the banisters and dusting the baseboards. Our home is older, but meticulously clean.

After about 3 hours, the house is sparkling. Everything smells like PineSol, Murphy’s Oil Soap, or bleach. I lay on my bed exhausted, head aching from the music, body aching from the effort.

My mom walks up the creaky steps. I hear her breathing hard, despite doing none of the cleaning. She was in the shower and taking her rollers out. She did put a large slab of beef in the crockpot. She doesn’t cook on “the lord’s day”, but using a slow cooker is an exception.

“Indi! You comin’ to church?”  
She always yells my name, even in the same room.  
“No, Mom-- my professor sent me an assignment so I won’t get an incomplete for last semester.”

“Ok baby. You are blessed and highly favored. Never forget.”  
I smile for my mom and let it fade as soon as she turns to leave. Normally, I don’t feel blessed or highly favored by any god, but recent events have me reconsidering the phrase.

I want to call his name-- but I stop myself. The pull is entirely lustful and inappropriate, given the situation. It doesn’t matter that he is unnaturally pale, mad tall, and so angular! With glossy black hair resting on his shoulders and those eyes! Sometimes they darken to near black and sometimes they seem to glow in the dark. I can’t just call a god because I want to look at his body. Or can I?   
I want him to call me to his side like last time. I want him to help fix my issue… maybe with his hands.

Also! I can’t call him yet because I didn’t look up the words he left me. I don’t want to piss him off by not doing a simple task. Isn’t that all gods want? To be listened to and obeyed?

I go to my brother’s door and knock loudly.  
“It’s open-- SHIT!” is the response.  
I enter, and he grins at me with his headset askew:  
“You got me killed. What’s up?”

“Can I use your computer? My laptop is laggy.”  
“Yeah, but leave your laptop later so I can check it for Malware”  
“Ok. You playing with Webbie?”  
“Yeah, he just got on, so I’ll be busy.” He slid his headset back down and returned to his game. “Webbie! What the fuck, man? You didn’t call that out.”

Webbie was short for Webcrawler99, the gamer tag for my brother’s friend Peter. They had been friends since going to the same nerdy camp together in 6th grade.

On the computer, I look up the words Loki gave me, and take notes on my phone.   
Astral projection - Asgard - Loki -Clairvoyance.

I start with astral projection and clairvoyance.  
After some searching, it appears that Loki thinks my mental illness is a manifestation of enhanced… abilities that I can’t control. It sounds nuts, but then I think about gaslighting and how quick I’ve been to accept that I’m defective and crazy. Maybe it’s a combination of abilities and illness. I did summon a god to me.  
A. God.   
Yes, it was an accident, but maybe I can trust him to help me.

Then I read about Asgard and Loki, and didn’t feel so confident anymore.

“Sis, you ok?” My brother Orrin gently shook me.  
“Yeah, yeah” I managed to mumble, moving to exit the browser.

“I didn’t know you were into Norse mythology. I took a unit on that last year in my Myths of the World elective.” He beamed.  
“Oh yeah? What did you learn about Loki?”  
“The god of mischief? He can change forms, and I think he had sex with a horse. But Thor is my favorite-- dude’s so badass we named a day after him: Thursday.”  
“Huh. Well thanks for letting me use your computer. I’m beat. I’m gonna try to rest while mom is gone”

Orrin hugs me unexpectedly.  
“Sis, I know you want to be at school, but I’m glad you’re home.”

#

Orrin took it especially hard when I went to University. He was a freshman when I was a senior in high school together. Back then, he was so unsure of himself. It was online gaming that brought him out of his shell. He’s won a few tournaments, and streams regularly to make a couple dollars. He could make much more, but he spends most of his time carrying less skilled players to a win. I keep telling him that he should charge for carries, but he refuses.

#

Once in my room, I draw the curtains and light a single candle before laying on the bed. I close my eyes and call his name:   
Loki

I opened my eyes and looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I sat up. “Loki. Low-key. Loc-ee?”  
Maybe I made it up.   
Imagined it.   
Dreamed it.   
Was I delusional before?

Maybe crying last time made him want to stay away. Crying is usually a good way to make most men stay away… but this was a god.  
A god.   
Gods like ...prayers?

I slid to the side of my bed, knees on the rug, palms pressed together, eyes closed:  
“Dear Loki, God of Mischief, crowned prince of Asgard. Your humble servant calls upon you to help me through this time of need. I--” The bed dipped as if a weight were on it. Loki was looking down at me, in the green shirt and grey sweatpants (thank you gods).

“Lo-- My Prince!” I moved to stand, but he put his cool hand on my forearm.  
“I rather like you on your knees.” He said quietly.

I felt my ears burn with a flush of blood and stared at the duvet, unmoving.  
“I take it you looked up the list I left you… what did you learn of me?”  
I swallowed, cautious about saying anything that might set him off.

“You’re adopted. Your dad is Odin, your bio-dad left you for dead. Your brother is the god Thor.” Loki shifted uncomfortably when I said his brother’s name. “You are a trickster god”

“Look at me.” he commanded. I locked eyes with him, but he held my chin anyway.  
“Do you trust me?” he asked.  
“I have no reason not to” I reply carefully.  
“Do you want me to help you with your… obstacles?”  
“Yes, my Prince”  
“Will you serve me in the ways that I ask?”  
“Yes, my Prince”  
“Do you find me attractive?” He surprised me. My eyes widened before replying:  
“Yes, my Prince.”

“Good. In order to help you, I’ll need to touch your body frequently to check your energy.” I broke into a big grin.  
“Not in THAT way! My what filthy thoughts you have.”  
I immediately start apologizing, and he laughs in my face.  
“Oh you sweet, simple thing. I can’t read your thoughts, but I’m flattered by your body’s reaction.”

Embarrassed, I try to change the subject. “Did you get a chance to watch Roots?”

“The disks you gave me don’t work in Asgard, but I asked Heimdall what was on them.” He answered somberly.   
He gently pushed my head to rest against his lap, inches from that glorious dickprint. 

“I doubt you know this… A few years ago, I came to enslave everyone on this planet… but my plans changed. I no longer want to rule this world. And even if I did, it would have been nothing like the Roots you shared with me. That was savage.”   
In his lap, I breathe in his scent-- balsam fir and new snow, like christmas morning.

“You tried to take over Earth? Was this related to the Incident in New York?” I ask softly, lifting my head, tipsy from his scent.

“Yes.” He noticed the glazed look in my eyes, and the corners of his lips turned up- briefly. He continued in a low voice: “If you do decide to call me Master, know I only intend to rule you in ways that would bring you great pleasure.” Loki was talking to my body, before he looked up at me near the ceiling. He picked my body up and laid me carefully on the bed. Then, he turned to me, grinning devilishly.

“Kiera, you are in your astral form and maintaining wonderfully.”

“Who the fuck is Kiera? How many Black girl’s bedrooms are you sneaking in?” I hiss, getting ready to cuss him out.

“Kiera is my pet name for you. It means little dark one. I like your fire.”  
Pet name? Dark one?! He likes my fire???

I’m too stunned to answer at first, wrestling with my reactions. I kick my arms and legs like I’m trying to swim, and go nowhere. I will myself closer to Loki-- and it works.  
My astral form is almost nose-to-nose with him. And I ask, as sultry as I can manage:

“Do you like me in this form… Master?”

He presses his lips to mine-- sending a wave of energy through me. I feel him all over me, inside me, in every cell of my being. The sensation is exhilarating and terrifying because Loki has blurred my sense of where he ends and I begin. A door bangs open, Loki breaks the kiss. I stop wailing, but I don’t remember starting.

Orrin stands in the doorway, horrified by my astral form hovering near the ceiling light.

“Sis?” He says weakly, before crumpling to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you figured out who Webcrawler99 is? Should I bring him into this story or no?


End file.
